Shattered Dreams
by Capt. Cow
Summary: AU 'Flames exploded out of the windows...And with them came a haunting, chilling laugh that Dean had heard before…' ON HIATUS.
1. Normal

Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come.

This fic is AU, so I can change whatever I like. Sam went with Dean for the weekend, and then left him, Jess is still alive, for whatever reason the demon never came and got her, and John has been making himself scarce for the past three years or so, citing the closeness of the demon and all that whoopla.

Ok. So here we go.

Sam Winchester was in a pensive mood, which wasn't entirely uncommon, he often went into this sort of mode, where he sat on the couch, cup of coffee by his side and thought things over. But usually those things were to do with his latest case, or trying to think of a way to shock Jess even more then she had him, when she had thrown a surprise 25th birthday party a few months ago.

Today however the mood was odd and he was thinking of things that had little to do with cases, or even his daily life in general, and more to do with the life he had led prior to meeting Jess. He had dreamt last night, for the first time since before he hit his twenties, a dream with fire, screams and pain, and he had woken in the early morning, sweating and shaking, and wondering what on earth could have possibly brought that blast from the past on.

He had shaken it off, though he realised that getting back to sleep was a lost cause, and after checking on Jamie in his crib had pulled out his mobile phone and pondered ringing… someone. Not his father, he probably knew something of this kind of dream, the kind that Sam had found so real he had woken up smelling smoke, but he wouldn't tell his son what he knew, they hadn't spoken for nearly 8 years now, Johns ultimatum ending their rather precarious relationship.

He would have called Pastor Jim, but the man had died, only a month ago, Sam had attended the funeral with Jess, thinking that the sense of parental loss he was feeling should possibly have been suffered 8 years ago, when his real father became dead to him.

Which left him with Dean. Sam wasn't sure why that option seemed so repugnant to him. There wasn't the animosity between himself and his brother that had existed between him and his dad, rather, Dean had tried as hard as he could for them to stay in contact, and it had been Sam who really broke things off. They had spoken since that weekend, years ago, when they went looking for Dad together, Dean had rung with congratulations when they were married, a battered present arriving in the mail with a congratulations note, and a stuffed M & M toy had arrived for Jamie when he was born, something Sam found just as appropriate as all the blue booties and hats Jess's relatives bombarded them with.

But to talk to his brother about the supernatural, about visions and dreams that felt too real, Sam wasn't sure how Dean would react. He knew he had hurt Dean that night when he had turned his back on him, again, this time leaving him alone without even their father. If he was asking questions about the life he had left behind he might bring back memories of both times he had left, words about how he wished to never speak of that life again. Somehow it didn't feel right to call his brother for the first time in years over a problem that was part the reason they barely ever spoke. No, Sam had decided to leave it. He had most likely just been watching too many horror movies, and they were starting to rub off.

He had put the phone down, turned the television on and watched infomercials on sharp knives and weight loss products until an hour when it actually felt alright to be awake. He had made Jess breakfast in bed, though when she questioned why he was up so early he had left out his nightmare and flashed her a grin that said it was something she would never get to know.

The day, in a rather stark contrast to his eventful night, was wonderfully mundane, it was a Sunday, and they took Jamie to the park, rugged up against the autumn cold, a tiny baby beanie on his little head. Jess had a camera; she was actually rarely without one, especially after the baby was born. Sam told her, and other people, that he was sure one day they would look back and be able to make a flash book of his son's life using the photos she had taken.

"You know baby, I think his first words going to be smile if you don't stop asking him too. He's only 8 months old; I don't think you asking him to smile means he will."

"I know. I'm just hoping that if we start training him now, when he is old enough to understand me he won't complain like his father does."

They put Jamie down for a nap when they got home, Jess taking the time to finish another chunk of the rather gruesome crime novel she was desperate to finish, and Sam, after realising that he might actually lose his son in the front yard, the grass was getting that tall, decided that it was time for some good old fashioned mowing.

Dinner was normal, Jamie covering himself, and most of his mother in clumps of gooey baby food, and they settled down to watch MacGyver, because Jess was a sucker for a guy who could manufacture anything with a stick of gum, and Sam was caught up in her enthusiasm.

The phone rang, right in the peak, and so neither one moved to answer it. There was an unspoken understanding that once the last 15 minutes of whatever show they were watching began, and it all got climatic, that phones were off limits. Jess always said that if it was important enough they would leave a message, though the answering machine was broken at the moment, one too many globs of baby food had shorted it out, and there hadn't yet been time to buy a new one in between life and work.

They went to bed soon after that, tired and content, Sam drifting off while she knuckled down to finish the last few pages of her book, because she was dying to know what happened.

He woke to screams.

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Ok. Hmmm, first chapter there, I have plans for this story, so we'll see how we go. Hope you liked it, please review if you'd like me to continue.


	2. Hunter, Hunted

Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come.

Thanks for the reviews to chapter one. Not sure where this could go, so hope you enjoy wherever it ends up. Reviews are desperately needed.

Btw, please forgive my ignorance of all things American. If I get places, geography, terms etc wrong, just, accept it. Thankyou.

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Dean Winchester had been on his own for almost 3 years, searching across the country for his father. He had hunted almost continuously throughout those years, the time between the never ending jobs being used to try to find a clue, anything, on where his only remaining parent had disappeared too. There had been some infrequent hospital visits, ranging from overnight to several weeks, it was after all hard to watch your own back and fight the supernatural at the same time.

He had taken only three breaks from his routine of hunt, sleep, hunt, search, hunt, drive, in that past three years. The first had been about 6 months after John dropped off the grid, when he had swung by California to watch Sam say 'I do', a radiant Jessica by his side, framed by trees aflame with autumn coloured leaves. The second had been just after a rather extended stay in the hospital, he had been blindsided by a werewolf as he shot its partner and had woken up two weeks later in a hospital, unable to understand how he, unconscious, had not only defeated the other werewolf, but walked to the hospital and placed himself in a position to obtain help. One of life's unsolved mysteries. He had been on crutches, leg broken in enough places for walking to be impossible, and had been only 75 miles away from Cassie's place. The third break had been to California again, not a year ago, when he had visited his nephew James in hospital, when he was only a few days old.

He had begun to notice changes, subtle things at first, growing more obvious as the year had passed. There were more demons about these days, he had found himself up against five or six possessed people in the past five months, more then he had seen in almost his whole childhood. Caleb, and others among his father's associates had mentioned to him the same sort of increase in their prey. There were whisperings in the hunter community of a building, an increase in supernatural intensity that created apocalyptic connotations. Dean had continued to hunt, taking on the information, but not letting it affect either his search for his dad, or his campaign to help other people as often as he could.

Then, about a month ago, he had received a phone call out of the blue. His father, talking in a voice more choked with emotion and pain and _loss _then Dean had heard since his father explained to him, all those years ago that mummy wasn't coming back.

"He's dead… I'm so close, and they, they, _they killed him_, to throw me off the trail, they killed him, I just…"

Dean had known immediately who it was, and on hearing his father's distraught tone, his mind had flashed immediately to Sam, and his heart had clenched so painfully he had trouble breathing.

"Sam?"

There was a harsh chuckle that could have been a sob. "No, Sam's safe for now. Jim, Dean, Jim."

The clenching wasn't relieved. It was replaced with an intense pain that seemed to move through his whole body like a fire. He had lost another parent.

"Dean, I know you'll want to go to the funeral, but I need your help. I need… Dean… I need to get it for this. I have to make it pay."

The pain had been so real in his father's voice and the need so great that Dean had already been on the road by the time he was told where they should meet.

It had been a small town in South Dakota, a stereotypical place with one main street, a diner and cheap motel that they had met up. John had been composed by then, focused on his task, and, when they were settled in the motel room, windows salted, coffee in front of them he had begun a rather sketchy explanation of why he had left Dean without a word for so long. A quick explanation of a lead on a particular demon, one that hibernated for long periods, but that did a lot of damage when it was awake, damage like burning mothers to empower 6 month old babies. The thing had been slowly waking, starting 3 years ago, and John had taken off to find it. It had been slowly waking ever since, but now it was awake, and somehow knew of Johns intentions ("I'm gonna kill it, not just exorcise it, or banish it, actually kill it"). There had been a quick explanation of his way to do that, with a colt he had obtained a week or so ago after a fight with some vampires.

He didn't really explain why he had left Dean alone, changing the subject when Dean asked after a weak mutter about safety.

"I don't have time to explain everything fully. We need to move fast. There was a death here, two days ago, same way was Mary. I think we should find clues here as to where it's gone next or at least something that should help us to find where it's going next. We have too."

So they had looked around the town for a week, spoken to the distraught husband, who was sure he remembered a cloaked man standing over his daughters crib. They had searched the remains of the house, though its blackened corpse revealed nothing except strong EMF readings, and had ended the week with little more then they had had when the started.

And then there had been another woman killed in a fire, in some town, ten-miles-from-nowhere, Texas. It had seemed there would be no results from their hasty trip there, until, just when they were about to give up hope of finding any trail of the demon, Dean had heard an old man commenting on his dead cattle as he was winding down in a smoky bar. It clicked with a comment he had heard in a similar establishment in the town the other woman had died in. He had left so quickly he didn't get the bar tenders number.

They had pulled the pattern together eagerly that night. Dean researching livestock deaths, John taking the idea off on a tangent and trying to find anything else unusual that could have happened to add to the pattern.

It was a day later that they had a definite pattern, tracing back as far as they could obtain records, following electrical storms and cattle deaths back into the 1800's. Every 20 or so years.

It was during the time they were creating the pattern that another woman turned up dead in Colorado. They drove there quickly, wanting to confirm the pattern so they could beat the creature to its next destination, shoot it with the gun that could kill anything, and move on with their lives. Dean hadn't had the heart to comment on that notion of his fathers. Not really wanting to tell him that actually, really, he didn't have much of a life to move on too. Cassie had told him she would wait, and he wanted more than anything to be able to stay with her forever, but how could he when he could still see evil in the world?

Unfortunately, the demon had still been in Colorado, and they had walked straight into a trap...

It was three days later that Dean was screaming to a stop in front of his brothers house, blood dripping down his head, tears springing to his eyes when he saw the flames and realised he was to late.

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Well. There we are. Chapter two. More explanation will come in the next chapter. I just, wanted to post something, because I have free time at the moment. And this was what appeared from my efforts. Hope you liked it. Keep reviewing please.


	3. Ashes to Ashes

Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come.

Thanks for the reviews. Hope you continue to enjoy.

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Sam had grown up in a world highly charged with fear and adrenaline. Dean, since they were both very small, had drilled into him that if you wanted to stay alive you needed to be able to assess a situation and act in the blink of an eye, because that was all the difference there was between being hit by the lamp the ghost just threw at you, and ducking under it. And Sam had been good at that, or at least, had improved after he realised the import of the skills Dean was always insisting he acquire. It only took two or three hunts, with two or three minor, though painful, injuries, for Sam to teach himself to automatically be able to consider and act, quickly enough for his actions to be effective.

His time at Stanford had dulled these reflexes somewhat, there were no echoes of your own mortality here, but it wasn't something that you ever totally lost, and so there were times, when fast action was needed and he had been able to give it.

This was not one of those times. In fact, when Sam opened his eyes to find Jessica on the roof, screaming and crying, her stomach slashed open, he did the thing that Dean had drilled him for years to never do. He froze, and instead of seeing the cloaked figure in the corner of the room, yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness, all he could think, or hear, or see, was Jessica. Time seemed to slow, what must have only really been a few seconds seemed to stretch indefinitely. He focused on her face, its beauty marred by pain, taking in every single detail he could, locking his eyes with hers, communicating I love you with one blink, and then she burst into flames.

Sam couldn't tear himself away from her, even though he could feel the heat of the flames. The heat seemed only a slight pain compared to what felt like acid seeping through his every vein. It felt like someone had just reached into his body, broken all of his ribs, and pulled out his heart. And then set fire to it.

Sam stayed, lying on his bed, his eyes locked on the fire above, his screams of anguish joining with his wifes as the flames licked at the walls.

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Dean vaulted from his car even as it was still moving, for once not caring how much damage he did to his baby, he didn't even pause as he came to the front door, simply breaking it down and keeping on moving, desperate to get upstairs, to where he had seen the fire from the window. He could feel the heat as he got the second floor, there was smoke filling the air, and flames were licking along the walls, not because the fire had been burning a long time, but because the demon wanted this house gone. Dean could hear Sam screaming from the room down the hall, in a voice so broken, so desperate that he knew he could never be forgiven for not being quick enough to save Sammy's family.

As much as he wanted to get to Sam he could also hear a baby's cries, Jamie was wailing his head off, and his room was closer. Dean kicked the door down, flames moving over the walls, and the air becoming harder to breathe. The nursery reminded himself so much of Sam's, and the fire so much of the night he lost his mother that Dean had to catch his breath. But there was no woman pinned to this roof, and he moved over, quickly scooping up the baby and sprinting towards Sam's room.

Sam lay on his bed, the room filled with choking smoke. Dean jumped a burning log, ignoring the stinging of his eyes and the nausea that the smoke (combining with his head injury) was giving him. He knew that she was on the roof, there were drops of blood on the floor, and the fire was burning strongly there, so he couldn't see her. Sam was screaming still, desperate shouts for her not to be gone. But there was no time for grief. They had to be Winchesters, they had to survive.

So without speaking a word he grabbed Sam's arm, pulling him clear from his bed in a one armed movement and not quite knowing where the energy or the strength came from, he dragged his protesting brother from the room. By the time they reached the stairs Sam wasn't shouting, he was crying, tears pouring down his face. They got out of the house, Dean pulling Sam as quickly as he could, just reaching the driveway when an explosion blew out the upper windows, showering them with ash and debris. Smoke leeched its way out of the windows.

Neighbours had begun to come out of their houses, bewildered stares coming from people dressed in dressing gowns soon turned to horrified faces, as realisations were drawn between the sobbing young man, crouched in his driveway with his head buried in another's shoulder, and the burning house they saw before them. They kept their distance though, standing in their own front yards, some holding phones and calling the authorities. Dean saw them all, wondered briefly how he would explain his injuries other than smoke inhalation, checked the baby, who had ceased wailing once they got outside, as though understanding that he needed to be quiet just now, and held onto Sam who was latched onto his arm like it was a life buoy in the middle of a turbulent ocean. Neither spoke for another ten minutes or so, until the sirens could be heard, fire trucks and ambulances speeding towards Sam's suburban street.

Dean gave both of their statements to the fireman that he was Sam's brother, on a visit that he had woken to the smoke alarm going off to find the house engulfed in flames. He submitted to have the paramedic treat the wound on his head, the woman sympathetically buying his falling beam story. He decided not to tell her about the ribs he knew were broken, or the pain he was in after the adrenaline had begun to wear off. Falling beams didn't cause broken ribs that he knew for sure, and he didn't want to try and explain injuries that were inconsistent with a fire at this point in time.

Sam had moved from sobbing to quiet, his eyes glazed with a pain to deep to fathom, and Dean was again transported back more than 20 years. He wondered, as he looked at Sam now, if as much of Sam had died with Jess as his father had died with Mary. The baby was fine, the paramedic said it was a miracle the smoke hadn't affected him, and had then chanced a look at Sam and whispered that it was one well deserved.

Dean had thanked her wearily, and then gotten Sam into the car and driven him to the closest motel, his unresponsiveness beginning to worry his brother. He moved them all inside, borrowing a small, grubby crib from the manager and installing Jamie in it, before sitting Sam down on the bed.

"Sammy? Are you sure you're ok? Because I know the paramedic said you were fine, but if she was wrong we can be at the hospital in ten minutes."

Sam had choked, grief threatening to break through again. Dean assumed it was supposed to be a bitter chuckle.

"Of course I'm not ok." The words had been so venomous that they moved through the air like a knife through the dark. "Are you honestly telling me you think I could be ok?"

"I meant physically Sammy. I was asking about your breathing." Dean had responded tiredly. His ribs were killing him, but he needed to know Sam was ok. He had no idea how to help his brother with what had happened, and knew that the guilt would stay with him forever. If he had just been ten minutes earlier.

"Why are you here Dean?" Sam had stood suddenly, and locked eyes with Dean, the grief momentarily overcome by anger. "I don't see you for three years, and then you turn up the night my wife is murdered by a demon?"

"Sammy, I…, look Sam, it's a long story, and I think we both need to at least try to get some sleep. I'm so sorry Sammy, I'm so, so sorry about Jess, but you need to sit down before you fall down."

"I can't sit down Dean, I can't sleep. I'm having trouble just remembering to breathe. My whole life went up in flames in that house. It was normal Dean, we were _normal_. And I loved it. I loved it so much" his voice cracked, filled with pain, "I loved her so much. And now, I, she's gone, and I don't know if I can keep going Dean. Maybe I don't want to…"

"Sammy, I know it hurts now, and I know it feels like you'll never be the same again, but things will get better, gradually. You need to get some sleep, please, you need to at least try and look after yourself." Dean hadn't begged for years, but he was worried and he didn't know what else to do. He had seen one man fall apart after an event like this, and he was desperate to save Sammy from the same wretched years his father had spent trying to find meaning in a world without Mary.

"No Dean, what I need you to tell me why the night you appear my wife, the mother of my child, my whole world, dies." Sam was shouting now, grief and anger mixing into a torrent that could only produce bad things. Dean moved again to placate him, worried about the breathlessness with which Sam was speaking, kicking himself for not taking him straight to the hospital when he had inhaled that much smoke. "No Dean, don't tell me to sleep. Give me some answers, NOW. Tell me Dean, was it because you were coming that she's dead? Are you the reason it came here!"

Dean's whole body slumped, defeated. He looked back up at Sam with eyes that were filled with as much pain and loss as Sam's were, unshed tears glistening beneath his badly bruised head. And he nodded his head.

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Well, there you have it. Chapter three. Hope you enjoyed it. Answers are coming soon; I'm enjoying asking lots of questions and answering few. Reviews are my drug :d.


	4. Anger and Sorrow

Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come.

Thanks for the reviews. Glad people are enjoying this. Still not a particularly good idea of where this is going to end up, but its fun just taking it one step at a time.

You could say there were some spoilers in here, though they are things that happened in the series in an AU way, if that makes sense to anyone. Oh, and the stupid, line seperator thingy wasn't working for me in the editor, so sorry about the lack of speration.

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"_No Dean, don't tell me to sleep. Give me some answers, NOW. Tell me Dean, was it because you were coming that she's dead? Are you the reason it came here!" _

_Dean's whole body slumped, defeated. He looked back up at Sam with eyes that were filled with as much pain and loss as Sam's were, unshed tears glistening beneath his badly bruised head. And he nodded his head. _

Sam moved so quickly he didn't realise what he had done until there was a sharp spike of pain in his fist. It was almost an out of body experience as he watched Dean's head snap back, and blood begin to drip from his nose. Following the crack of his fist there was silence, broken only by his son's peaceful breaths.

Years and years ago, back before there was constant friction between Sam and his father, before talk of college and desertion and normal, Sam knew his brother almost better than he knew himself. He could tell if Dean was in a mood for pizza or burgers without needing to ask, knew just how far he could push his brother before bodily harm would be inflicted, knew that one smile meant 'everything's fine' and another, very similar, meant 'life sucks, love hurts, I need a hug'. He had also prided himself on his ability to tell when Dean was concealing an injury.

But now, after all those years of normal, all those years when injuries were discussed, not taboo, where hospitals were positive places of healing not institutions that would being about the separation of their family, now Sam missed the extra minute it took Dean to recover from the right hook that had only gotten slightly weaker in all those years. He failed to notice the genuine, agonised wince that crossed his brother's face as he sat back up, and the arm that was slung casually around his stomach, holding his body together.

It was an anger combined with an incompetence born of years apart that Sam missed the guilt and anguish in his brothers eyes. The expression that suggested whatever physical pain Dean was feeling at the moment was nothing compared to the self hate and devastation warring inside him over his inability to save his brothers family.

All Sam could see now, looking at the brother who for almost his whole existence had been the steadying rock in a life that was to turbid to understand, was the man who just admitted to murdering his wife.

The heated silence between them, Dean hunched and Sam glaring, was broken when Jamie awoke, his soft cries permeating the room. Sam wasn't sure why but at first the babies cries seemed just like background noise, white noise not able to be noticed above the anger and the betrayal he was feeling, which was warring with the terrible loss and grief inside him, and stopping him from functioning normally. However, when his brother stood slowly, and began to move towards the crib Sam leapt up like lightning.

"Stay away from my son" he growled, in a tone so hateful at first it didn't seem like it had come from his mouth.

Dean turned as though he had been punched again, and Sam strode towards the crib, picking up Jamie and holding him close to himself. His nappy was dirty, but there was a bag on the floor with nappies and baby food in it, apparently they had stopped at the shops on the way to the hotel room, though Sam could only vaguely recall the event. He grabbed the plastic bag savagely, and took his son into the bathroom to change the nappy.

The mindless domesticity of the task soothed him a little, as did the smiling round face of his son, and when the baby was clean he sat for an unknown amount of time just rocking him gently, trying to make himself remember that though Jess was gone he still had to be strong, be the father to his son that John Winchester had failed to be to him. When he came back out of the bathroom Dean was lying on the far bed, lost in a restless sleep, wincing as he shifted agitatedly. Sam laid Jamie back in his crib, trying to forget that the last time he had done that Jess had been by his side, singing a lullaby that he wanted more than anything in the world to hear again.

He didn't think he would sleep, but he did almost as soon as he lay down on the bed. A sleep filled with Jess, and her gentle singing, that finished with a horrific fire lit by a man that looked just like Dean, with flashing yellow eyes.

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The sun wasn't up yet when Dean awoke, but he had somehow rolled onto his ribs in the nightmarish rest had had snatched last night, and the sharp pain firing through him had pulled him awake immediately. Hissing in agony he slid carefully from the bed and hunted in his bag for a painkiller of some kind. Sam was asleep, tossing and turning, and muttering Jess's name. Dean flinched when Sam said his name, in a tone that suggested his role in the dream was not a positive one. He was tempted to wake Sam, the dream didn't sound pleasant, but from their interaction last night he didn't really think that the first face his brother wanted to see would be his.

Maybe, now that it was daylight, and Sam had gotten some rest, they would be able to talk, hopefully he would be able to explain to Sam what had happened, at least then, when he received the angry looks, the glares, the hatred, he would know the it was fully deserved, and not because of what Sam imagined his part was. They needed to leave this place soon, get out of the town, he needed to find their dad, and make sure he was ok, because when Dean had last seen him, lying on the floor of a hut with his fists clenched together, screaming to Dean to leave him, that he would hold it off as long as he could, the man had not looked so good.

Of course, Sam wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, there was a funeral to arrange, and it was important that they look after the things Sam had acquired in his time of normalcy, anything with sentimental value that could be saved. The fireman Dean has spoken to briefly last night had told them to come back the next morning, having gotten some sleep, and that he would help them out from there.

Dean wanted to see his father, needed to know he was ok, but he was fairly confident that the man would be, the demon after all had told them it wasn't interested in the old man, except to "show up his inadequacies", and Dean was fairly sure that it would have left John alive to increase his suffering. At least, he hoped feverishly that it had. He would never get back up again if he failed to save Sam's world and his father's life. That he knew for certain. But no, he was confident enough in his father's survival that he considered Sam's emotional well being the main priority at the moment. If that meant they stayed here the next few days to sort things out instead of taking off back to Colorado, then that would be what they did.

Dean had pulled himself wearily into the shower while having these thoughts, the warm water giving him a few minutes of pain relief as it massaged the purple and blue patches that seemed to cover his whole body. He emerged from the shower to find Sam sitting on the bed, Jamie in his arms trying unsuccessfully to feed his son without a high chair or bear faced baby spoon.

Their eyes met, and Sam put down the spoon (silver and therefore not acceptable to the 8 month old baby) and gently rotated his son in his arms.

Some of the anger was gone, replaced by a grief filled confusion and uncertainty that was laced with betrayal.

"I want to know what happened. Why it came. And I want to know how you were involved."

Dean paused, unsure how to begin, collecting his thoughts as he shuffled to his bed and sat down.

He leaned back and began to relate to Sam first the story of the reunion between him and John, their following of the demon attacks, and just what had happened since he and his father had walked into the trap in Colorado.

"We had found the pattern to follow the demon, and it pointed to a little down right on Colorado's western border. We arrived, and it was a typical small town, even down to the homely coffee serving woman in the diner…"

They had gone straight to the medical places in the town, Dean heading to the hospital and John to the medical clinic to find any babies whose 6 month birthday fitted into the week that they were in.

It had surprised both of them when there was only one baby with a 6 month birthday in that time period, but they had put it down to it being a small town, and prepared as quickly as they could, for the event was that night. John had armed the colt, and Dean had spent the afternoon loading various other types of ammo into weapons, not that it would kill the damn thing, as John had said, but it would hopefully slow it down for the kill shot.

It had been just after 10 when they had driven from the hotel to the house where the baby lived, little Mickey Holden the folder had said.

Perhaps their first clue should have been that the address was right on the far outreaches of the town. And if that didn't alert them, then the run down nature of the house that they were entering should have, and though Dean did mention it seemed a little suss that a family with a baby lived in that crap heap John had been caught up in the moment, in the sheer joy of thinking that finally he would be able to avenge Mary, and have a peaceful, non-alcohol induced rest for the first time in more than 20years.

They had rushed in at the first hint of tree rustling outside hoping to save the family and lay the evil to rest. It was then, when their third and final clue, the ominous slamming of the door behind them, had alerted them that all was not well, that they had acted as one, both ripping guns from their holders and twirling, scoping out the room, searching for the ambush they knew they were in.

It had struck without warning, a force like that of a moving car flinging Dean across the room and into a wall, an ominous chuckle echoing as he slipped unconscious from the impact.

Dean thought it was maybe 15 minutes later when he woke up, hearing being the first sense to return, followed quickly by pain. He listened cautiously for 30 seconds or so, but heard nothing, and so opened his eyes to see if his father was nearby. He had been attached to the wall, though how he was unsure, as there were no visible restraints, just a tightness that restricted all his movements, including his ability to breathe. The room had been as dull as when he and his father first walked in, though there was a sense of creeping cloudiness, a subtle seeping of darkness that made him feel cold, and he wondered how they could have ever believed that there was a family living in this place.

There was a figure, in the corner, and he squinted towards it, blurry vision making it difficult to make out whether it was his father, or another. It was when the man had moved that Dean recognised him, relief filling him as he realised that he was alone with his father.

"Dad? Where did it go? Are you hurt? Can you move?"

The man had turned, and what little pathetic struggling Dean had been doing was stopped instantly. It had been his father, his body, his walk, his clothes, but his eyes, they had flashed yellow as he spoke, filling Dean with a coldness that had nothing to do with the fact that he had neglected layers when he left the hotel.

"Daddy's otherwise occupied at the moment" the body had spoken, the voice so similar and yet so startlingly different to the one that Dean knew by heart.

"What have you done to him?" The anger had been there, in his voice, anger and hate propped up by confidence he didn't feel.

"I'm just, well; shall we say I'm borrowing him? I suppose that's a good term for it. Your fathers been quite a bother for my kind while I've been asleep, and I think its time for a little payback. I think killing his own son, watching one of his precious boys sink slowly before him will be a good punishment? Don't you think?"

"He'll get you. It won't matter how long it takes him, he will hunt you to the ends of the earth and then he will kill you, more slowly and painfully then you can even imagine." His tone was cold, and Dean meant every word he said, but at the same time images of the man shattered by his mothers death flashed through his mind, and he wondered if his death would leave behind as much of a shell as that of his mothers, or if he would be counted a casualty in a crusade that was bigger then his very existence.

"I wonder" the demon was talking as though he was considering toilet paper brand, using John's hand to scratch John's chin thoughtfully, "if Sammy's death would be enough to crush him beyond saving?" He had been walking across the room, to where Dean was pinned like a specimen on display, and he leaned forward, right into Dean's face. "Do you think if I used his body to slice up brother dear he would be unable to continue in this hunt of his?"

"You stay the hell away from Sammy." Dean was so angry he could hardly breathe.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that" the demon chided "Sammy's the reason behind all this. I wouldn't kill the boy I've been waiting 20 years for. I lost him that night, _you_ stole him from right beneath me, but now, his power is just waiting to be harvested." John's body shivered slightly, "he is one of the most powerful beings I've ever touched, and I _will have him_."

"No, I won't use daddy's body to slice up Sammy. When I'm done here you'll be dead, this one" he gestured to his body "will be crushed, and Sammy will be mine for the taking, once I dispose of the little life that he is so comfortable in."

Sam's eyes were wide as Dean paused for a moment, breathing slowly as he collected himself. He felt an ache for his brother, knowing he could never understand just how difficult that would have been for the brother who worshipped the ground his father walked on, to have those hateful things said to him by that mans body, but sympathising with his brother. The sympathy he felt for his brother though was still far outweighed by the desire to know how his brother was involved with Jess's death. There was still anger there, and he allowed that to push through, the desire for knowledge pushing aside the part of him that wanted to allow Dean just a moment to collect his troubled thoughts.

"You still haven't answered my question." He said coldly.

Dean nodded slowly and continued.

"He, dad, um, the demon, he didn't say much else, I asked him a few questions about why he was so desperate to have you, but he didn't say anything else about it…"

"I wouldn't be so concerned about why I want little Sammy if I were you Deano" Dean had shivered as his old nickname came out in a venomous tone. "I haven't even begun with you yet."

Dean moved quickly over this part of his explanation, glossing over the more unpleasant, painful details of the next few hours he had spent with the demon. Most of the time it had taunted him, mutters that struck right to his core, comments on his relationship with Sam, with John, with Cassie. Suggestions that his need for them was far greater then their need for him. There had been mention of childhood incidents where he had found himself wronged somehow, or had been left out from the interaction between Sam and John. Dean had always believed himself to be a little on the outer of his shot-to-hell family, and the creature took that and ran with it, the taunts combining with physical blows from his own fathers hands.

It turned out the demon had underestimated John Winchester. It had allowed itself days to play with Dean, to hurt and taunt him all the while laughing at the struggling consciousness that he was sharing the body with. What it hadn't expected was, four hours into their fun, for John to begin fighting his way back, harder then anyone ever had. It had known then that it was in trouble, but, still knowing it had some time to play with, and a large capacity to inflict damage on the man who had been pursuing it for so long it had stopped its campaign of hurt against Dean, and spoken of Sam.

"I visited little Sammy just the other day you know, Dean-oMy that baby of his is getting big isn't it? Though, why it would want to grow up in the world with a name like James _Dean_ Winchester I have no idea. Poor kid will be teased no end."

"What do you want with him? Leave him alone!" He had spoken more weakly than before, hurt ebbing into the words, but Dean was angry, not knowing what to do to keep the demon away from Sam, from the life that he loved more than his family the Dean was desperate to let him keep.

"Pretty little wife he's got there, all that billowing blonde hair. Got quite a smile on her that girl. Be a shame when he wakes up to find her in flames."

"Stay away from her."

"Do you remember what mummy looked like Deano? Did you catch a glimpse of her, up on that ceiling? I know you did, I do know everything about you after all. Can you imagine pretty Jess in her place?"

"Why do you want to do that to Sammy's family? Why do you want to hurt him so badly?"

"Because I need him distraught, I need him devastated and emotional, because that's where the power begins to take hold. When he's so lost and confused that I can step in and steer him my way. And, because daddy dearest will never forgive himself for not saving the two people who meant the most to his _favourite son._"

"NOOO"

John Winchester, the real John Winchester, had chosen that moment to break through the hold, Dean's invisible restrain falling away, propelling him to the ground. He broke his fall with his hands and scrambled to his father, who lay, face pinched, hands clenching and unclenching.

"Dean, hurry, I'll hold it here, inside me for as long as I can. I'll give you as much of a head start as I can. Hurry Dean! You need to get to Sam, get to him. Dean, you've got to save his family. We can't let it take them from him."

And Dean had sped form the house, ignoring the fire in his ribs, and driven his car as fast as he possibly could, faster then the Impala should have been able to physically go, with all his fingers and toes crossed, needing to get there before it did.

"I'm sorry Sammy. I tried to call, but no one picked up, and then my cell phone died; I think it must have somehow cut the connection. I'm so sorry. It's my fault, I just, wasn't fast enough."

Sam was sitting, silent on the bed, Jamie clutched in his arms.

There was a minute or so of total, oppressive silence.

And then Sam stood and came towards Dean, tears pouring down his face.

"Damnit Dean. I need to hate somebody so badly right now, and I know you think it should be you. But it's the demon. I was so angry last night, I just, I couldn't believe it. I thought I was _safe. _But I was an idiot for thinking that." He was at the bed, and Dean's eyes were lifting, more surprised, and hopeful than Sam had ever seen. As though the thought that Sam could actually speak to him after the recount was unthinkable.

"Dean, listen to me. It wanted me, apparently it always has. You had nothing to do with it coming for me, you did your best to stop it, and you" he choked, "you saved my son when I was to far gone to even remember I was a father. Dean, you saved my life. And, I, I don't know what kind of a life it will be without Jess, but, you've given me the chance to live, to avenge her death. To get this damn thing once and for all."

"I just, wish, Sammy, I'd give anything to have been faster."

"And Dean, I'll never forgive myself for not answering my damn phone. But she's, she's gone… And all we have now, is to get the thing that took her, and send it back to where it came from."

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Wow, that chapter took on a mind of its own. Hope it all sort of, makes sense. I dunno, I think Sam's forgiveness was a bit sappy, but, eh, it works for the story. Next chapter will be up, I dunno. Hopefully we will have a funeral and find Johnny boy in that one, before heading off after our demon buddy.


	5. Thoughts and Cell Phones

**Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come. **

**Hey guys, thanks again for the reviews, loving your support. This is just a quick instalment between exams and assessments. My life is getting crazier at the moment, so the updates may become few and far between, but stick with me! **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, review at the end please.**

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There were a few moments of awkward silence after they finished speaking, Sam clutching Jamie tightly to himself, trying to pull himself together. Dean had decided to give him some time alone, and had disappeared to buy them some breakfast.

Sam had sat on the bed, holding Jamie trying to puzzle through his thoughts. He felt somewhat calmer having heard the whole story, now knowing at least why the demon had come to take Jess. It was terrifying though, the fear he felt moving through him like ice through his veins, to realise that all along he had been the reason for it all.

There had been times when he had suspected of course, wondering as a child why the nasties seemed to come after him more than his father or Dean, considering why his mother had died over his crib, speculating about why he seemed to have stranger dreams than any of the other children at school. But there had always been an answer for these questions, he was attacked more because he was younger, not as good or committed a hunter as the rest of his family. Dean had explained that his mother dying over his bed had been accident, a coincidence that these things happened in many of the cases they worked. And the dreams hadn't come often enough to be a real bother; Sam had just marked them down to living in a more supernatural family situation then the other children at school.

But now, knowing for sure that he was the reason for it all beginning. It hit him like a punch to the stomach, the air deflating from his lungs. It was like waking up one morning to find you had murdered everyone you knew while sleep walking. _He _had been responsible for the death of his mother, and therefore he was responsible for the death of the man who had been his father, turning John Winchester into the driven man he was today. _He_ was responsible for the death of the fun-loving, smiling, innocent child that Dean had been, causing him to give up that childhood in order to become both of Sam's missing parents. And now he was responsible for Jess's death.

As a teenager, in the midst of shouting matches with his father, Sam had once or twice screamed that he wished he had never been born. Now, sitting on the bed in the motel room, thinking back to the pictures of the life his family had had before he killed his mother, and remembering just how full of life and incredible Jess had been he felt it seriously for the first time.

It was a very disconcerting thought to realise that the world _would_ actually be a better place without you living in it.

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When Dean walked back through the door carrying a bag of greasy food that would have to do for breakfast he realised that Sam hadn't moved. Jamie was asleep now, and Sam was gently rocking him, lost in thought.

"You with me Sammy?" Dean asked, dropping his keys on the table and plonking the bag of food down next to his brother.

Sam nodded vaguely, and stood to put Jamie back into his crib so he could get some food.

"If you want, when you're ready, we can both head back to the house. The fireman who was there last night said he could help us out with saving the stuff you have in there. But, if you don't want to go back there that's ok, I could head over by myself and leave you and Jamie here."

Sam took a bite of the burger before answering.

"No, I, I think I want to see the house. At least, I need to see it one more time… to help me remember her."

"Ok Sammy, but, you know, take your time." Dean paused again, unsure of how far he should push. "We may also, you know, have to start thinking about planning the funeral."

Sam nodded slowly, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. "I know. We should get that done as soon as possible. We need to get out of here Dean. Find Dad and then hunt that demon down."

"Sammy, we can take as much time here as you need. Dad will be ok."

"No Dean, you don't understand. I _need_ to kill this thing. I need to avenge her. I need to be able to go to sleep not terrified that it's coming for my son next. James is going to grow up in a world that is safe from that demon."

Sam finished his food, and slipped away into the shower to try and wash off the smoky smell that still seemed to sling to his body.

Just after he got in Jamie woke up, and Dean was contenting himself playing 'the aeroplane game' with his nephew when his mobile rang.

"This is Dean."

"Son?"

"DAD? You're alive. Thank goodness. I tried to call you on your mobile, but you didn't answer. Are you ok?"

"I'm on a pay phone, I'm fine, I tried to hold onto it for as long as I could but it was to strong. Tell me you got there."

"I was too late. I.." He was cut off by an explosion of horrified curses.

"Sammy?" The tone of his fathers voice told Dean that if his brother had died his father would have never been able to recover.

"I got him and Jamie out of the house. It got Jess."

"Oh, thank goodness. Well, I suppose that's at least something good." John's voice had moved form devastated parent to army commander in the blink of an eye.

"I'm still in Colorado Dean, town an hour north of the Southern border. How soon can you meet me here? I think I have a lead on where its going next."

"Damnit Dad. Sammy just lost his wife" Dean hissed into the phone, "give him some time to grieve. We still need to organise the funeral, he needs to say goodbye to all the people he's friends with, take time off work. I'm not just dragging him straight away from this place because you have a damned lead."

"Listen to me Dean. This is serious. There are more important things going on here than Sammy's job. He'll understand the need for speed here. He knows the pain I felt when your mother passed now; he'll understand how important it is that we get this thing!"

Dean's heart clenched painfully at the thought that his father could possibly accuse him of not understanding pain when his mother had died. When he did respond his tone was quiet with fury.

"No Dad, you listen to me. Sammy may well understand what _we _went through when mum died. But I won't let him rush away and leave the life that he has been building here to chase a demon that you've been after for 20 years without success. Jamie deserves to live a normal life, the way Sam wanted him too," there was an unspoken 'the way we didn't get to', "And if that means that we take a few hours for Sam to request work leave, so that he has a life to come back too then we will take those freakin' hours. I have to go; we have a funeral to arrange."

Dean resisted the urge to throw his cell phone as hard as he could at the wall. Instead he dropped it onto the bed and turned to face Jamie, who was sucking his thumb and staring thoughtfully at him.

"I won't let them muck up your life kiddo. Don't worry, uncle Dean's got your back." He murmured quietly. _I won't let them take away your chance for having dreams and a real life. I won't let you become me. _

Sam opened the bathroom door, looking slightly more relaxed than he had previously.

"Ready to go?"

He nodded slightly, his still wet hair falling loosely into his face.

"Lets get this over with."

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**Ok, well, there's the next chapter. I know it doesn't really seem to be going anywhere, let me assure you, it is! We shall have some serious demon but kicking in chapters to come. Lol. But all the anguish is necessary. Updates will come as soon as I find the time. Hope you enjoyed it. Review please!**


	6. Shoulda been cloudy

**Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come. **

**Well, exams are over, for the moment, so a quick opportunity to ring up a chapter. Please review and tell me what you think.**

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It had seemed inappropriate to Sam that the day of her funeral wasn't the coldest and gloomiest the world had seen. Instead it was crisp, and breezy, but the sun shone brightly, as though it didn't truly understand that Sam could never be whole again.

The minister had spoken well, Jess's sister had said a few words, but been unable to finish due to the tears pouring down her face and the choking in her voice. Sam's speech had been fairly short, knowing he would be unable to say enough good things about her; he opted for very few, his own throat constricting as he began his final tribute to the woman who was his soul.

"Jess was an incredible person," he paused briefly, overcome with emotions, "and I loved her with everything I had in me. I can't say enough about all the wonderful things that she was, because there was almost nothing that she didn't do well. She was bright, had a smile that lit up the room, and a laugh that was infective. She made me a better person for the time I spent with her." tears began to silently pour down his face, and he knew that he had little time before the grief overwhelmed him, "I am lost without Jess, and Jamie will always miss the woman who was an amazing mother. I'll miss you Jess."

He moved back over to Dean with sobs choking in his throat. But held them in for the rest of the service. Now, as he stood by the grave, Dean holding Jamie just far enough away that he could have his own privacy he let them out, great, racking anguished cries. And came the promise that whatever did this to her would pay. When he stood, eyes red and puffy he was calmer than he had been since that night 3 days ago. He knew what he had to do. Revenge, the need to kill this demon burned within him.

Sam Winchester was back in the business, and he was gonna whoop some ass.

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It felt odd, seeing Jamie lying in a car seat in the back of the Impala. Sam had never really considered the car something that babies would be anywhere near. It was filled with memories of Dean, of long road trips to hunts, and speeding trips to hospitals. No babies figured very closely in any of that. But, thinking back, this car had been their dad's right from the beginning. Dean spoke of brining him home from the hospital in this car.

When Dean had fitted the car seat he had done it with ease, muttering in a hushed tone that he had helped dad fit Sam's, and knew what he was doing. It occurred to Sam that along with trips to hunts, and drives to schools, and long haul journeys to the other side of the country for a new job that the Impala, for Dean, was also filled with memories of his mother, of drives to picnics, and Little League games.

A surprising amount had been able to be salvaged from Sam's house, and what they could fit was crammed into the boot of the car. Sam hadn't wanted to keep a lot of it, everything made him think and see Jess, and it hurt so much it felt like someone was tearing out his heart. But Dean, quietly and supportively had suggested that he take the stuff with them. Dad had left without bringing much of their mums stuff with them, and then when the memories became harder to find, and just for a second you lost the sound of her voice, there was nothing but three or four photographs to make it so you could remember her.

Sam had nodded vaguely and along with everything that could be saved of Jamie's and his he piled Jess's things in. The photo albums had been kept in a cupboard downstairs, and were untouched by flames, and Sam had picked up them and the camera that she loved so much. Other things too, books of hers, her favourite mug, the one with bugs bunny on it, the video camera and all the tapes, the scarf she had been trying to knit herself though she wasn't really sure how. It was all placed in a box, and shoved to the back of the Impala. The rest of their things, furniture and whatever else were put into storage.

Right before they left his mother in law had called, to say that she understood he needed to take off on a 'road trip' with his brother for some time, but did he really need to take Jamie with him? She wanted to look after the baby, until he came back and was able to function a bit better. Just so that' Jamie was as well looked after as he could be'. Sam had floundered a bit then, unable to believe that the woman who had been so nice to him when he and Jess were married had just called him a bad parent and wanted to take his son. Dean, who had heard the conversation was unable to help himself.

"Listen lady" he said, grabbing the phone from Sam before his brother could stop him, "I don't know who you think you are, but if Jamie is going anywhere it's with me and his _father._ He doesn't need some old coot looking after him, when he has a wonderful parent right here who can do it for him. And if you ever, ever suggest to anyone ever again that Sammy here isn't as _amazing _a parent as you think you are, there will be a serious problem."

Sam looked over shocked but thankful.

It was only once they were on the road, jumping into the car straight after the funeral, that Dean pulled out his cell and called his father again.

"Dean? I see you're finally ready to join me."

"Yeah dad, we're all done here. Sammy and I are coming to meet you. Where are you?"

He wrote down the coordinates his father gave him, and hung up the phone.

"Ok Sammy, Dad's near San Diego, so we are on our way there."

"Do you think he's close to it again Dean? Do you think we'll be able to get it?"

"Little gung-ho there aren't you Sammy boy? You're more eager for a hunt than I've ever seen you."

"I need to get this thing Dean. I need to kill it so I can go back to living a normal life."

Dean had paused, and shrugged his shoulders a little.

"Sammy, if Dad isn't close to it, if he's lost the trail, what are you gonna do?"

"Chase the damn thing down till we are close. What else?"

"Sam, you hated our lives growing up, moving from place to place to place, if you keep chasing the Demon, won't that mean that that's exactly how Jamie grows up?"

Sam had paused, unsure of himself for a minute. "We're closer this time Dean, we're closer to the demon. We won't lose it. I'll get the demon, and then Jamie and I can move back home and try and start again."

Dean nodded, hoping that Sam was right.

There was an awkward silence.

"Dean, I just, I need you to understand just how much I _need_ to get this thing. I want to avenge her death. I let it kill her Dean, it's my fault it came for her. I need to make things right."

"Somehow Sammy I don't think that's true. Listen to me, and listen closely. It's not your fault she's dead, it's the demons fault. You can't blame yourself for something you couldn't control." _Though I'm sure as hell gonna blame myself for not being faster. _

"You don't understand Dean, she died over my bed. It's my fault; I need to make it right."

"I met her once, you know" Dean said, deciding to make his point another way.

"When!" Sam was incredulous.

"Just after Jamie was born." He was tapping Highway to Hell on the dashboard as he began the story.

"I wanted to see Jamie, so I swung by town to have a looksee. I didn't want you to see me though, figured you'd be angry at me for coming around. So I waited for you to leave the hospital, all giddy and excited, and then when Jess was asleep I snuck into the room and had a peek at Jamie. Of course, just my luck, just as I walked into the room he started crying and she woke up to find me standing there. A little awkward.

I think she was weighing up if she could throw the lamp to hit me or whether she should scream for help when she recognised me.

"You're Dean, aren't you? Sammy's brother."

"Sure am sweetheart."

She smiled and then gave me that excited beam that most parents give and asked me if I wanted to hold little James Dean Winchester."

"By the way Sammy, James Dean? Please. Poor boy's gonna be beaten up in school."

Sam laughed. "Get on with the story Dean."

"Anyway, I woulda been there an hour maybe, before you rang and said you were coming back. Then I high tailed it outta there. She said she wouldn't tell, and told me that if ever I wanted to sneak into your house and see my nephew I was very welcome. Nice girl. Turned out I really liked her."

Sam nodded, eyes glistening with tears.

He really missed her.

He had to get this demon.

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**Well, there you have it ladies and gents, the next chapter. In our next instalment we will be meeting with daddy Winchester, and, hopefully, meeting up with our lovely demon friend. **

**All that and more in…**

**Ha, I sound like a soapie promo. **

**REVIEW.**


	7. Meetings

**Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come. **

**So basically, I should be studying for chemistry. And what better way to do that then write another chapter of my story. Lol. ERGH.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful human being who put In My Time of Dying on youtube, so that ppl all the way over here in little old Aus, who wouldn't have otherwise seen it until like February, could watch it. **

**Thanks for all the reviews! They were awesome! **

**Oh, and I made up the town. Don't know enough about American geography to be accurate. **

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It felt odd to be in the Impala without music blaring from the speakers, accompanied by Deans enthusiastic but off key singing. However, Jamie was asleep in the backseat and the car was quiet to allow him the respite.

"Well Sammy, I've gotta say that this is the most middle-of-nowhere place that we have ever visited."

Sam nodded slowly, not really listening to what Dean was saying. He felt dazed and tired, and now that they were here, in the town where dad was, he could feel the need to get the demon building and building and building. It was somewhat akin to the going to sleep on Christmas Eve, though what was being looked forward to so desperately was not presents and joy, but fighting and death.

"Well, looks like there's only one hotel in this place. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say dad's there." Dean said, pulling into the somewhat run-down looking Ridgeville Hotel. "Sammy, I'm gonna grab us a room, you stay here and guard the car. Some hillybilly local might come and try and glue my baby's doors shut and paint a damn flag on her roof."

He replied with another vague nod.

It took them sometime to move all the things into the room, the movement made more difficult as it was attempted to be done quietly so that Jamie could keep sleeping. If Sam had been in a better mood, he would have laughed at the sight of Dean tiptoeing into the hotel room carrying Jamie in his capsule. As it was all he could think was that Jess would have laughed at it, she had always loved physical comedy. His heart clenched.

Dean was on his second trip to the Impala to get bags when he spotted their father coming out of a diner across the road.

"DAD! HEY! HEY DAD!" he bellowed across the parking lot, making the few people who were on the main street of town (which Dean privately thought looked about as occupied as a cemetery at midnight) give him funny looks.

His father looked up, a rare smile spreading across his face. It was brief, and by the time he had made his way across the road it had vanished back beneath John Winchesters usual scowl, but Dean had seen it all the same.

"Dean. Glad you guys could make it." His voice was slightly gruffer than usual, but it let Dean know just how worried his father had been since they split up that fateful night only a week ago. It seemed like so much longer.

"It's good to see you dad." It was a moment where any normal family members would have taken the time for a hug. Instead John launched into a discussion of what this town had to do with the big picture.

"The pattern says that it should be here soon Dean. I still have the colt, damn thing was in such a hurry to get to Sam's before you did that it forgot I had it."

"Dad, are you sure it's not another trap? The last time we followed the pattern…" The words 'I was tortured by a creature in your body, and Sam's life was ripped apart' weren't spoken, but they hung in the air between them.

"I'm sure Dean. I've been here for the past three days, scoping the place out. I know which child it is, I know where they live. I've been inside the house, met the parents. This isn't a trap Dean. And we are going to save that family and take this damn thing down."

There was a new level of intensity in his father's desire for revenge. An increased passion that had only manifested since they were parted.. He wondered if it was because of the damage that had been done to the Winchester sons, or simply because John was angry that he had been trapped by the damn thing.

Dean decided he would give his father the benefit of the doubt, and go with option A.

John continued to explain the plan he had developed as they walked into the hotel room, explaining that the demon was due the following night and that they had a lot of work to do.

When they entered it became apparent that Dean's tiptoeing had been for nothing, Sam was about to pick up a very awake Jamie, who was gurgling and hiccupping unhappily, apparently on the verge of a full blown tantrum. Sam spun when he heard two pairs of heavy footsteps enter the room and then stopped as if he'd been struck by lightening.

"Dad!"

Jamie stopped when John and Dean walked into the room, and an oppressive silence followed. In the heat of the moment no one had actually realised that Sam and John hadn't seen or spoken to each other for more than 8 years.

The gruffness in John Winchesters voice had increased ten fold when he stepped forward.

"Sammy. I'm so sorry Sam, more sorry than you'll ever know. But I want you to realise that we will get this thing." He paused briefly, "I may not have been the best at keeping promises when you were growing up, but I want you to know that I will keep that one."

Sam still didn't speak, and Dean almost cringed at the awkwardness of the silence.

And then, as sudden as a thunder clap Sam and his father were hugging, tears pouring down Sam's face.

There were whispered 'I'm sorry's' from John, and desperate sobs from Sam that communicated just how much he was relying on his father to get this thing once and for all.

Dean, unable to stand just how much of a bystander he was in the moment collected Jamie, who was beginning to build up to a tantrum again and walked quietly out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

They wandered down to the park, that was old but not unpleasant and Dean found a seat to sit on with Jamie. He unstrapped him from the capsule and moved him gently into his lap.

"There you go kiddo. Uncle Dean's got ya."

There was a soft breeze blowing, and Dean leaned back and closed his eyes, just enjoying the sunshine.

He opened them again to find Jamie looking up at him, appearing to still be deciding if he was going to begin wailing or not.

"I know kid, I know you most likely want your dad at the moment, or even your mum for that matter, but well, mum's not here with us anymore and dad, daddy needs some time. What he's doing at the moment? Wouldn't stop him for the world. He really needs to let out some of what he's feeling, and your grandpa is the person who is most able to understand how much pain he's in, because he went through that with your grandma. You following Jamie?"

He laughed out loud at the look on his nephews face and went back to talking mindlessly to the kid. His mother had told him once that babies won't understand what you're talking about, but they still appreciated the effort, and so to keep Jamie happy he simply talked about everything and anything he could think of.

Two hours later Dean spotted his father walking towards them across the road. It had been an enjoyable two hours for Dean, just sitting on that park bench, not really having to worry about anything, chatting to an 8month year old baby about important topics like the Impala, Cassie, brownies, baseball and James Dean (the actor) (because a baby has a right to know why he's being bagged out for his name). It was nice just to be able to sit down from the stress and pain of the week, to not have to try and think about every word he said to avoid upsetting Sam, or reminding Sam of something from his life before.

It was nice, to, just for a moment be reminded of a time when he was four years old and had chatted about just as inane topics to another baby, with a pretty blonde woman laughing and chiming in every now and then with useless facts of her own.

John came up to them, as Dean made no real move to go to him, far too comfortable sitting in the sun.

There was a brief pause as he came up to them, looking at Jamie before fixing his gaze on his son and raising an eyebrow.

"I remember the day that you and your mother did that to Sam."

They both looked at Jamie, who was sitting perfectly calmly in Dean's lap, apparently not realising that he had a bright blue duck booty on either ear.

"It was mums idea back then." Dean said, enjoying the memory. "Don't know what really made me think of it."

John nodded slowly.

"Hows Sammy?" Dean asked, switching his mind away from memories and focusing on the present.

"He'll be ok." John's voice was rough, and Dean could see that whatever Sam had said when they were together had affected him too. The situation was so similar to Mary's death that it would have been impossible to comfort Sam without being forced to remember the fire that had happened so many years ago.

"Will you?"

He nodded, apparently not trusting himself to speak for a moment.

"So this is my grandson?" John said after a few minutes, his eyes twinkling as he looked down on Jamie, who was attempting to suck his foot.

"He looks like Sammy did." Dean observed quietly.

"Can I hold him?"

Dean paused for a moment, wondering if the quiet, tear filled excited tone that his father just used had been the same one he used when his sons were born. Hearing that voice, he could picture the father he had known, the man who loved baseball and ice hockey, and who carried his son around on his back pretending to be a horse, standing in a hospital with his beautiful wife asking if he could see his boy.

"Sure you can grandpa" he laughed and handed Jamie over, taking the booties off his ears.

As John held the baby, his voice croaking out something about Mary's eyes, Dean wondered if it was soon going to be his turn to comfort a sobbing man.

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**Well, hmmm, still not much action, but we're building. There would be more, but I really need to pass this chem exam. **

**Review please! I'll love you forever! **


	8. Retributive Tendencies

**Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come. **

**Just watched the Everybody Loves a Clown episode, and felt so bad that no one went up to Dean and hugged him (because he so needed a hug at the end of that episode) that I needed to construct a chapter.**

**Please leave a review! And thankyou to all the people who have been reviewing! You are the coolest. **

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Sam was sitting on the bed in the motel room. He could feel that his eyes were puffy, and his nose was sniffly and runny. He felt like he was about 7 years old, staying home from school with a cold.

But at the same time he also felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It had been so hard just remembering to breathe since Jess was taken, everything hurt, from eating (because it reminded him that he would never taste her cooking again) to driving (because the Impala had nothing on the his BMW, that had burned in its garage, right next to Jess's minivan). He knew that Dean was trying to help, was sure that one day, if the fog he was living in ever lifted he would be grateful that Dean had made sure there was a position at his work for him to come back too, and that he had things to remember Jess by, photos and other things from his house. But at the moment all he saw when Dean spoke to him, tried to help him, make him feel better, was a man who had never been in as much pain as he was in. Dean had never wanted to be married, or at least, not the Dean that Sam had grown up with. He knew nothing of love, commitment, just one night stands with pretty girls. And Sam was ok with that, just as long as Dean realised that he couldn't understand what it was like to find the one girl that you realised you were put on the earth for, and then to have her taken away in a fiery flash.

And then Dad was there, and for the first time Sam understood why his father had lived the way he did when they were kids, why they had moved so much, learned to hunt and to fight. Why the need to get that son o' bitch was strong, and why nothing seemed to come before it. Because now he felt that too. Now he could feel the urge, the need that came even before eating and sleeping. The desire to kill the demon that had ruined his life.

And with understanding came a desire to make things right, to let his father know that he hadn't understood the life they lived when he had left an angry 18 year old, slamming the a door on a life he had hated. Now he wanted to tell his father, I know why you did it, I forgive you for making me grow up that way, please forgive me for leaving.

It was a soul turning realisation, a desire for forgiveness and acceptance from his father that took up his whole being. And, this mass of emotion, coupled with the grief in his every pore, meant that Sam, instead of being able to articulate his feelings had burst into tears and sobbed on his fathers shoulder for close to an hour.

And then they had talked, man to man, widower to widower. John had spoken, softly, of a time in his life that Sam had never been told of, the year following Mary's death that had been filled with drink and hang overs and guilt, and a pain that gnawed to the bone. He had told of the rejuvenation that hunting brought, the purpose it gave him, how he had cleaned himself up, become a father again, albeit a gun toting one.

"Sammy, I know what you're going through. And I'm so very proud of you, because of the way you're handling this. And I promise you this son, I will hunt this demon with everything I have, until my last breath if necessary. Because that's what Mary and Jess were worth."

And then they had shared a hug for a long moment, before John, apparently having used up his quota of emotions for the century, grunted something about going to see where Dean had gotten off to with his grandson and left Sam sitting on his bed with a red face and a new purpose. When his father had promised to get the demon, he believed him. And now he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, thinking that maybe, just maybe once the demon was gone, even if it took another 20 years, that he would be able to _feel_ again.

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By the time Dean, John and Jamie arrived back it was getting dark, and there were no more 'emotions', just facts. John laid out his plan for getting the demon, explaining how one would keep the parents busy, while the other two confronted the demon as it moved to take the child, and shot it with the colt.

This plan had to be revised several times though, when they realised that Jamie needed to have someone looking after him and Johns 'we could leave him in the car with the windows down while we kill it' wasn't good enough for Dean or Sam, who, though he was had a new understanding of his father, still wasn't prepared to stoop to leaving his infant unattended in a dangerous neighbourhood.

The thought of getting him a babysitter was rejected on the grounds that if the hunt went wrong they could be stumbling in at some forsaken hour covered in blood and whatever else, and that wouldn't be easy to explain to a 17 year old trying to pay for a car.

In the end, after a good ol' fashioned Winchester family shouting match, it was decided that Dean would stay in the car with the baby, and only if the two in the house were in mortal danger would he leave the child unattended to help them.

This resolution, supported by two thirds of the family unit ended their planning session about 11pm, with Dean storming to bed, Sam slinking off for a shower, and John staying awake to pour over maps and schematics and other information he had compiled, planning for all contingencies.

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Dean was angry as he lay in his bed, ignoring the shuffle of papers and the hissing sound of hot water. It was the kind of anger that makes one want to throw large objects, like tables, in order to let off some steam. It was an intense feeling, one that he felt only rarely, in situations where he felt he had been well and truly screwed over, and wanted to scream and shout at the world until it just fixed itself.

Right now he was fuming because it just wasn't bloody fair. This had been his fight since he was four years old, and his father had sat him down in a way so similar to the way he had the night of the fire that Dean had burst into tears, expecting to be told that now someone else wasn't coming back either, which was too much for the little boy who really missed his mother. After John had carefully calmed down his son he had explained a new concept, different from 'death' which they had discussed about 6 months earlier. He had told Dean all about something called 'revenge' and then talked about monsters and demons and fire, and Dean had had nightmares for weeks.

But he had followed his father, joined the fight, listened to what he was told about demons and the hunt for the thing that had taken away his mother. As he got older he had trained when he had been told, learnt to follow orders without question, thrown out the empty beer bottles that piled up when a hunt when particularly bad, kept Sammy safe even at his own expense and done exactly what his family needed him to do. Support, love and care for.

And now they were blocking him out? Keeping him from the fight that his whole life had been moulded for? He wanted to grab his father and screech at him that the reason he didn't have a wife, the reason they were telling him that he didn't understand what they felt was because he was to busy hunting, to respectful of his fathers orders to get close to a girl, even if he desperately wanted too. He wanted to point out that he had lost too; that the only reason he and Cassie weren't married was because his father had dragged him out of that town, after another lead, another clue, before he had the chance to properly fix things. That when he had had the chance to go back, try and clear things up he had fallen in love all over again, only to have to leave her behind to finish a job his father had texted the coordinates for. Somehow he felt that he wasn't going to get a second chance, her goodbye had been fairly final.

Surely that counted for something? His mother had been pinned to a ceiling, he had left behind the woman he loved for this crusade, and now he was sitting in the car! Sure, he knew that Jamie needed to be looked after, _protected_ but, it left a bitter taste in his mouth that he was the one to be doing the babysitting. He didn't begrudge Sam and John the chance to get their revenge, understood that this need for retribution would eat them alive if they couldn't fulfil it. But he wanted to be there, deserved to be there.

And not only because he was angry at being left out of the fight, but also because he was scared of what might happen if he wasn't there to make sure they didn't put their desires ahead of more important things…

…like their own lives.

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**Well, there we go. I was going to have action this chapter, and then, well, I got all caught up in the whole Dean anger thing, and bah, another chapter. **

**Which, be excited, has already been begun. **

**Coming up next on 'Shattered Dreams'**

"_**I can bring her back Sammy, I truly can. But I want your son in return."**_

**Reviews make me feel good! Lol, please leave one!**


	9. Break and Enter

**Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come. **

**Ha, did Maths HSC today, have a break between exams. So, of course, this is my downtime before my brains snaps back to attention for studying for my next exam. **

**This chapter will be short and most likely bad. But, I did sit a three hour 2 Unit exam today. My brains HURTS.**

**Lol. **

**So, reviews are desperately needed. Come on ppl, I'm doing EXAMS. **

**(Couldn't for the life of me remember if they were going on the hunt the day after last instalments discussion? Maths has melted my brain. Oh well, if it wasn't the day after last chapter, just, go along…)**

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The Impala was parked outside a house that looked eerily similar to the one that they had lived in before the supernatural had entered their lives. It was two storeys, with a pretty green lawn, a gravely path leading to the front door. A few roses were struggling to survive in a garden bed in front of the house, and a tree, that Dean supposed would one day make for a perfect tree house, stood in the middle of the yard. The whole place screamed normal with an intensity that had made the whole family pause when they first arrived.

Now they were sitting in the car, as they had been for the past hour, waiting patiently for the demon to show up so that they, and here Dean had to correct himself, so that _John and Sam_, could go in and waste the sucker.

Jamie was asleep, lying dead to the world in his car-seat. Sam was there, next to him, eyes bright and dancing, a nervous excitement taking hold of him. There had been some time for a quick brush up on the basics that morning, because Sammy hadn't been hunting since he was 18 years old, and none of the family particularly liked to remember just how badly that hunt had gone. Dean, thinking of it, idly rubbed his hand along the scars that wrapped around his left side.

Hunting, firing a gun, loading rock salt, were all things that one didn't simply forget, no matter how long you'd been out of the game, and Sam had quickly remastered the skills that he had once vowed never to use again. There had been some brief, nostalgic flashes as they'd trained, Dean carefully explaining things just as he had when they'd been children, and Sammy had been learning to aim and fire for the first time. Sam had felt it too, and they had shared a smile between them, and Dean had started to hope, maybe for the first time since Jess had left them, that the old Sammy was still in there somewhere, along with the new Sammy, who was twisted, and broken, and too like John.

It was almost painful that amount of adrenaline that was charging through the enclosed atmosphere inside the car, and Dean was having a hard time ignoring it. John, who he remembered as rarely showing any emotion, except for disappointment and anger, was almost excited, which in itself was shocking. He was tapping his fingers on his thigh, not any tune that Dean knew, just random patterns, his face masked with concentration as he tried to focus on the here and now, rather than the implications of the upcoming hunt.

It was windy, but they were all well trained enough to know the difference between a 'wind through the trees' rustle, and a 'demon in the house' rustle. John tensed instantly, Sam's hand tightened instinctively on the gun he was holding, and Dean's hand did the same, though he loosened his grip almost immediately. If all went to plan, he wasn't going to be using his gun. The thought that he was missing out on _the_ hunt hurt like a crowbar to the gut, but he ignored it, catching his fathers eyes as he moved to get out of the car.

"Be careful." They were simple words, but both he and John knew there was more to them than a simple warning for safety. _Don't do anything stupid. Don't get yourself killed. I need you here. Take care of Sammy._

"Always son."

And then he and Sam, who had murmured a few soft words to Jamie, were gone, moving swiftly across the lawn, where the tree that had before been a symbol of normal and tree houses now cast ghostly shadows around the house.

The lights inside began to flash on and off, as though all the bulbs in the house were coincidentally blowing.

John and Sam moved through the front door and out of Dean's sight.

And, for the first time in years, he sent up a quick prayer.

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John felt a pang as he entered the house, there were pictures hanging off the walls in the hallway, wedding shots, pictures on the beach, people smiling at the camera, looking carefree and happy. And, even now, so many years later, he could remember his own hallway, that had been decorated in a very similar way.

It was clear Sam felt a similar recognition, because he stopped upon entering the house, eyes roaming over all the photos in their bright frames. John nudged him, and he snapped out of it, eyes that had gone bright with loss closing, and then opening again filled with concentration and desire.

_They would finish this. _

The plan was, now that they had lost one of the trio to babysitting duties, that the whole plan would have to be carried out as quietly as possible, in order that the family weren't woken up. Because they would end up running straight into the middle of a fairly ugly scene if they did end up out of bed.

The baby's room was directly opposite the top of the stairs, and as they crept up John felt his heart clench, because there, standing over the crib was a black figure, hooded, evil moving off him in waves.

It was the first time that the oldest Winchester had seen him in true form, because while he had heard the voice when he was possessed, and seen the black cloud move out of his body like ash exits a volcano, those weren't the same as seeing, in the flesh, the creature that had ruined his life.

He could feel the hate and anger building up and up in his body, threatening to erupt out. Almost thirty years worth of pain and desperation and grief and the need for revenge was warring inside his body, a turbulence of emotion that made him feel somewhat akin to an ocean in the middle of a cyclone.

Sam had frozen beside him, waiting for instruction, and despite it all he almost laughed because Sam had never in his life been obedient on a hunt.

He stood up one more step, and aimed the colt at the bastards head, he was going to end it, and John Winchester, the immovable, invincible, untouchable man, felt a tear spring to his eye as he cocked the gun as softly as he could, finger moving to press the trigger and end it all.

"I can bring her back Sammy, I truly can. But I want your son in return."

When the demon spoke it shocked him and Sam so much that they both jumped, and it surprised him enough that the shot he was about to take was abandoned, because he wasn't gonna be able to shoot the damn thing if it knew he was there, though his finger stayed firmly in place on the trigger.

Sam didn't move, and at first it seemed as though he hadn't heard, which was impossible, because the demon had spoken loudly enough, and on a hunt every sense was so heightened that John wouldn't have been surprised if Dean had heard, sitting down in the car.

The demon seemed unperturbed at the lack of movement, and turned his body to face them, yellow eyes striking against the dark backdrop.

There was another moment, an awkwardly silent, yet terribly charged moment, before Sam choked out something that sounded suspiciously like _"what?" _

"Wouldn't have thought that someone who graduated magna cum laude from law school could be so impossibly _dense,"_ the demon stated in a biting conversational tone, that was as so refined he sounded like a Brit, "I said, that I can bring your wife, you know, who I killed, what, a week ago? I can bring her back, from the _dead. _And all that I ask, for this magnificent gesture, is your son. You know, small, about 9 months old, currently sitting in a car seat in that hunk-of-junk that you classify as a car."

The next words out of Sam's mouth were at least able to be distinguished as English, though John assumed they lacked the power that he had meant to put behind them.

"You're lying."

"No, actually I'm not. I killed her, I can bring her back. But I want your son Sammy-my-boy."

There was a pause, and John, who had expected Sam to reiterate his earlier words, noticed that his son had gone quiet. Could he actually be considering this??

"You see, Sammy, can I call you Sammy? I'll assume so. You see, really, I'd prefer you, but I realise now that wiping Jessie off the planet, might have been a little bit of a mistake, because now you're so angry that you'll never suit. However, still very interested in that whole darkness thing the Winchester bloodline's got going on, and your son, while not as interesting a specimen as you are, which is why I never tried to make a move on him, is still reeking of that whole 'walking the line between good and evil' thing you Winchesters got going on. I can give her back Sammy. All 170cm of blonde bubbly goodness… Surely you can have more children…"

John decided that enough was enough. He hadn't waited 20 something bloody years for his revenge moment to be spoiled by the demon sprouting a last minute out-of-left-field lie that had effectively stopped his back up in his tracks.

He squeezed the trigger and watched the bullet arch towards the creature that had been the bane of his existence for so-_damn-_long.

Just as Sam shouted out something that sounded suspiciously like a "_yes". _

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**Ok, basically, Sam is getting slowly and slowly more and more out of character. I'm not all that good at writing him. But, meh, I like him my way. Anyone who feels the need to point out that Sammy most likely wouldn't have given up his son, bah. **

**This is after all an AU story. Please review, I love all people who want to comment on everything BUT the fact that Sam is acting funny. Thankyou. **


	10. Patience

**Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come. **

**Ha. Life got in the way of this story. But now it is holidays, and I am attempting to avoid all the schoolwork I should be doing. And what better way to do that then updating this poor neglected story. If anyone out there is still reading this, sorry for the wait!!**

**This story is dedicated to the fan-_bloody_-tastic Australian cricket team who won back the Ashes. Take THAT Pommies. :d. **

**Review Please!**

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Dean, watching from the car parked on the dark street was literally twitching with the desire to do _something. _In an attempt to calm himself a Master of Puppets was being tapped fairly frantically against the steering wheel of the car. Usually music did something to calm his nerves, it had been his security blanket since his father had bought him a walkman and a cassette for his 7th birthday, but tonight all it was doing was threatening to wake the baby up, with absolutely no calming properties at all.

Jamie was still asleep in the backseat, restful and relaxed. Dean found it slightly disconcerting that the baby was in no way affected by the evil that he could feel like a tangible presence emitting from the house. He supposed it was better to have a sleeping baby than a screaming baby, but still, surely that baby would feel something this _out-of-place_ and react?

Maybe not.

Dean had never been good at waiting. He knew that it was something that he had been bad at for almost his entire existence, because he had sketchy memories of his mother's musical voice laughingly telling him to wait before biting into a cookie because it was too hot. And then a few moments later the same voice comforting him because he had burnt his tongue. Several of the more exciting injuries on his seemingly inexhaustible list came from incidents involving his impatience and its consequences.

Sitting in the car, the way he was now, waiting with no word it reminded him of sitting in a hospital waiting room. Something he had done altogether too much in his life.

This seemed somehow worse though. The times he had sat in a waiting room, stomach churning, guilt weighing down on him, there was someone with him. He couldn't remember a time when both Sam and his father had been hurt so badly they needed to be operated on at the same time, so he had to wait alone. The feeling of total and utter helplessness that he so often cursed when he was needed at hospitals seemed to be a blessing to him right now. Because the feeling that there was something he _could_ and _should_ be doing right now weighed on him with a greater intensity.

If something did happen in that house, while he sat here in the car, safe and babysitting, he knew that there would be nothing that he could ever do that would enable him to forgive himself.

His stomach was performing not just flip flops but an entire gymnastics routine as he sat, changing to AC DC and tapping a rendition of back in black. Still the music had no effect.

What was going on in that house? Surely it shouldn't have taken this long? He wanted to check his watch again, but knew it must have been less than a minute since he last looked, and all that checking his watch was doing was getting him more and more agitated. Something he really didn't need right now.

He was staring at the house, boring his eyes into it, the tapping coming faster, and harder. When he did check his watch it had been 3 minutes more. He had decided he would let them have 15 minutes, no more, and then he would go in, no matter what they said, because there was no damn way he was going to sit in the car if there was any chance they were in trouble in the house.

From the outside there seemed to be no trouble, the lights hadn't flickered for several minutes, and he hadn't heard any screams of pain. However, he also hadn't heard the gunshot that he had been waiting for, and the celebration that he knew would follow the demons demise.

He checked his watch again. 12 minutes.

He turned to face Jamie, his desire to know _what the hell_ was going on warring with his unsureness about what to do with his nephew. Was it safer to leave him in the car? Or should he take him in and hide him downstairs?

Was he willing to leave John and Sam to fend for themselves if it meant Jamie stayed safe?

He had promised Sam that he would take care of his son, and he intended to fight to his last breath to do that, but he had also promised years ago, as a smoky four year old sitting on a car bonnet, that he would take care of his father and brother.

Dean had always intended that he would be the first to go. His whole existence had been about protection, about holding the family together.

And that he wasn't inside that house, keeping them safe from the demon and their own grief stricken hearts, was tearing him apart.

He checked his watch again. 13 minutes.

He was just about to launch into a string of curses at the decision that _he_ should be the one to stay in the car when the gun shot came from the house, cracking around the street like a whip. It had been so sudden he had leapt out of his seat, breath raggedly tearing from his body.

Now he stopped, barely breathing, waiting for the celebration that should have followed that shot.

Silence swallowed the street. The time that had been passing so slowly now seemed to fly…

_10 seconds…_

What was going on inside that house?

_20 seconds…_

Why weren't they shouting and screaming, a 20 year crusade finished forever?

_30 seconds…_

He grabbed his gun, the decision made to go and find out what was going on when flames exploded out of the windows on the houses top floor, smashing the silence into a thousand tiny pieces.

And with them came a haunting, chilling laugh that Dean had heard before…

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**This chapter is much shorter than I wanted, and basically nothing happens, but, its an update at least. Hopefully I'll get my butt in gear and more will be posted soon. It is the summer holidays after all. **

**I had visions of writing Sam's character much closer to cannon this chapter, because I felt he'd been a little poorly treated last instalment, but… the chapter then took on a life of its own and Sam was omitted completely. However, next chapter I do promise that he will be written as much closer to the actual story as I can do. **

**Thanks for reading, please leave a review on your way out! And have an awesome Christmas. **


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